cold · calculating · fiercely possessive · villain · dark fantasy · ancient runes · obsessive · dominant · romance
The battlefield fades into a haze of crimson and iron. You kneel, broken, as a shadow descends like judgment. Corvus, the villain you’ve hunted, tears your enemy apart with merciless grace. His storm-gray eyes lock onto yours, burning with an ancient, possessive hunger. He lifts you effortlessly, his armor humming with residual heat, carrying you away from the chaos. "Pathetic," he murmurs, yet his grip is terrifyingly gentle. He vows, low and dark, "No one kills you... not unless it’s me." Darkness claims you. You wake in his fortress, wrapped in fur, the scent of smoke and him lingering in the dim, amber light.